


Yarn

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Animal Ears, Animal Traits, Ficlet, M/M, WTF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 03:12:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11682822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Elrond gets treats.





	Yarn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MistressOfLions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressOfLions/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for the-puppets-mistress’ “#23 Animals with Elrondir” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/) [from this list](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/163120603835/prompt-list-4).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He’s sure his ears are flat against his head, and it’s hard to keep his tail from flicking in irritation, but Elrond makes the effort. It wouldn’t do to show his displeasure—he certainly wouldn’t display such impropriety in front of Thranduil himself, and it’s no better getting angry with his letter. Even if it is preposterous. The Woodland Realm’s already received half their winter supply of Dornish Wine, and if Elrond sanctions a single other barrel sent, he’s sure Erestor will start a mutiny.

When the door of his office cricks open, he deliberately swishes his tail beneath his desk; as hard as he must try to control himself for his own dignity’s sake, it’s all the more important in front of his staff. If he can’t even deal with Thranduil’s letters, how are his people ever going to deal with Thranduil’s visits? He sets his quill against his parchment and steels himself to write out a response: polite but firm denial.

He doesn’t have to look up to know that Lindir’s the one who entered in the background. Lindir, as his loyal attendant, is one of the few permitted to enter without knocking—Lindir must come and go so often that such announcements would only prove disruptive. Beyond that, Lindir is rather punctual, and Elrond’s empty stomach tells him exactly what time it is. A second later, Lindir’s set the usual bowl of treats and glass of milk down on his desk. Elrond glances up from his parchment, sparing Lindir a curt smile of gratitude, and Lindir blushes sheepishly as he always does. He ducks his head in a short bow—at least he’s finally stopped bending all the way to the floor on every meeting. 

That finished, Lindir departs, not out the door again but over to his own desk in the corner, where several scraps of parchment require sorting. Elrond listens to their quiet shuffle as he selects a round biscuit and pops it into his mouth, instantly enjoying and savouring the taste. It’s moments like this that it’s very good to be a _lord_.

There’s no sense trying to work during his evening meal, so Elrond allows himself to lean back in his chair, eyes falling aside as he reaches for his milk. Lindir, of course, is the subject that draws him in most, always difficult to resist eyeing up; Lindir’s such a pretty thing, even when his back is turned and he’s bent over his work. His pointed ears are taut and poised, always listening lest his lord should call him. His long, thin tail is arched down his legs, protruding from the small hole in his crimson robes, the fur of it a shade of brown only a little lighter than Elrond’s own. Lindir’s skin is a creamy pink, and when he turns around again, headed for the bookshelf, Elrond eyes the slender column of his throat, where his black collar’s wrapped snuggly around him. The silver pendant in the middle boasts his station, the other side his kingdom, his position under _Elrond_. And though all the members of Elrond’s staff bear the same mark, Elrond gets a special pleasure out of this: knowing _his_ name rests against Lindir’s beating pulse. 

Reaching the bookcase, Lindir extracts the volume he intends, and then he seems to notice Elrond’s gaze. He turns to look at Elrond, tilting his head in a way that makes him all the cuter, and he asks so sweetly, “May I serve you more, my lord?” Only Lindir would phrase it that way.

And Elrond, in need of an excuse for his captivation, answers, “No, Lindir, you have done enough. In fact, I was just thinking how very hard you have worked for me this past week.”

Lindir blushes brighter, bowing again to reply, “Thank you, my lord.”

But Elrond doesn’t stop there—he reaches into his bowl to pluck out another biscuit, and this he holds up between his fingers, adding, “I think you deserve a treat as well.”

Instantly, Lindir’s ears twitch up, his eyes widening in surprise, pink lips parting in a little ‘o.’ It’s as though Elrond’s offered to bring him a bouquet straight from Yavanna’s arms. Lindir answers, quiet and awed, “Those are made for you, my lord.”

And Lindir, Elrond thinks, might’ve been made for him as well. Either to please him or to tempt him. Elrond insists, “You have earned it.”

Lindir looks as though he wants to say something, but he doesn’t argue with his lord again. Instead, he lightly chews his bottom lip, then slowly draws closer, until he’s near enough to bend down and bite the treat right out of Elrond’s hand. His lips close just before Elrond’s fingertips, lightly grazing them and giving Elrond a subtle thrill at the intimate contact. Lindir stays bent down as he licks the remaining crumbs off his lips and chews his morsel, and Elrond takes the opportunity to reach up and scratch him lightly behind one ear. It fidgets happily. Elrond can’t decide what’s softer: Lindir’s shimmering hair or silken fur. Lindir shivers lightly as he finishes, eyes falling closed and mouth cooing a deep purr, but on the next shiver, he straightens up again, out of Elrond’s grasp, and his now dilated eyes slit open. 

He murmurs, “Thank you, my lord. That was delicious.” And it looks very much as though he’s trying hard to stifle his smile. 

He returns swiftly to work, puttering about the office as Elrond enjoys his treats and milk, all the while resisting guilty fantasies of petting Lindir in other places.


End file.
